


The Meaning of Life

by ClaireKat



Category: Death Parade (Anime)
Genre: F/M, One Shot, i really enjoyed writing this, i'm glad i'm finally posting it, mmmm i wrote this so long ago, probably not really angst but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:49:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4900891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaireKat/pseuds/ClaireKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Decim and Onna discuss what it really means to be alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Meaning of Life

**Author's Note:**

> Wowie okay so, I really love Death Parade, and I definitely ship this couple…for now I love how this turned out. I love the tone, I love the interactions, I am so pleased with this I’ll probably read it again myself when I want a dose of this couple. I hope you enjoy!

An ethereal mix of violet and turquoise hues facilitated the demure atmosphere of the bar that didn’t seem too out of the ordinary, at least on the surface. These colors were interspersed with bright fractals of various other shades of color, from blazing whites to vibrant blues, and even the occasional splash of deep rich purples and reds. The colors wove together effortlessly, coalescing into one grand color scheme that flowed effortlessly from one hue to the next, coating every surface with a glossy veneer that would have impressed even the most accomplished of architects and art enthusiasts. The otherworldliness produced by these colors was apt…considering this place was nothing more than a den for the dead.

“What do you think it means to be alive?”

The deep male voice that spoke was smooth yet empty, and anyone eavesdropping on the situation might have observed that the speaker had no sense of an emotional capacity whatsoever. The eavesdropper would have been quite wrong, however…the speaker was no more displaced from emotion than someone who had never been taught what real emotion was. The recipient of the question knew this, and was unfazed by the blunt nature of the question her stoic partner, Decim, posed. Her lips puckered delicately as she ingested more liquid from the rim of the crystal glass she had gently pressed to her lips, pondering the best way to tackle such a loaded question…or perhaps the problem was it wasn’t loaded at all—it was too empty, too vast.

“Do you want the technical answer?” she countered, setting her glass down. Her fingers played about the rim as the body elicited minute clinking noises; her nails tapped absently along as she waited for him to respond. Decim seemed unfazed by the noise.

“I guess you wouldn’t, really,” she acquiesced to speak first, the chasm of silence that stretched between them closing in an instant. “You probably already have all the basics down, am I right?”

“I don’t think I need a proper lesson in human biology, if that’s what you’re getting at,” Decim replied, his voice retaining the mechanic lilt that was characteristic to this mysterious man she seemed to be spending infinitely increasing moments of time with.

“Of course not,” she agreed blandly, sipping down the rest of the liquid in her glass before switching the way her ankles were crossed with an absent swing of her legs. “What was I thinking, really? Trying to teach an arbiter about hearts and lungs and cells and all of that…you have to have some basic knowledge of them to make these games anyway, don’t you? They all involve internal organs in some way, it seems.”

“Not in a technical sense, if you recall,” Decim posed, taking the glass from the black haired woman’s hands and beginning his routine of cleaning and polishing the fragile crystal until it produced a sheen and brightness to rival the sun…if such light had even existed in this place. “We only observe the way that the guests’ internal organs are reacting to the situation, the game, and prime the participants to produce acute psychological strain perpetuated by their own fear and self-induced distressed—”

“Okay okay, I get it,” the woman held her hand up before swinging it to cradle her temple in her palm. “You don’t need a biology lesson, and I don’t need a headache. So, what it means to be alive…why do you ask?”

Decim shrugged; his unique, ornate irises didn’t shift from the glass he continued to shine dutifully as it rested safely within his hands. “Small talk.”

The woman raised an eyebrow, her entire expression clearly communicating the fact that she absolutely did not believe this weak excuse for justification. She wanted to pry him more, find out what was really eating at him, but she knew it would be next to impossible. When Decim wanted to hide something, he locked it away within himself, in a place far away and displaced. She could tell from his bottomless expression that it was a place deep within him, hidden behind a wealth of doors and locks that didn’t have keys; the woman wondered how he was even able to access what he had hidden away in the first place.

He wasn’t human, but he wasn’t completely detached from the general facets of humanity either. The soundness of this assumption was only solidified by the question he had just asked, and as the woman swept the glossy strands of her hair behind her shoulder, her mauve irises remained fixed on him. She did her best to try and grasp at any strand that might help her start to untangle the invisible web in which he wrapped himself, behind which he hid his true nature, something that the woman was sure she still hasn’t seen in its purest form just yet.

“Well, if I had to sum it up…I’d say being alive has a lot to do with how you perceive things.”

Decim didn’t shift in any way to indicate that he had heard or processed what she was saying, but she was used to him being a little stand offish when they spoke. The times when he was most distant, more blasé than usual, were right after they had dealt the judgment sentence on any guests that had been sent into their den of final judgments for reckoning. She wasn’t completely sure whether or not the increase in his stoic demeanor was due to how the judgments personally affected him or if it was a result of him delving deep into thought contemplating the weight of the judgment they had just made. Perhaps it was a side effect of the strain the process of receiving the memories and going through the judgments put on him. Either way, it was something that the woman was used to, and she had discovered a while ago while working with him that it was much easier to not question her partner or try to poke and prod him if he wasn’t also willing to partake in the conversation.

He deigned to address her when she failed to elaborate on her claim. “How you perceive it? What do you mean by that? Perception…isn’t all human perception skewed in one way or another from the start? What makes you think that perception is the key to life?”

“You didn’t ask me what it meant to live; you asked me what I think it means to be _alive_. And since you made it clear that you already understand all the basic science behind what it means to be a living organism, I thought I would tell you what I think it means to really be alive, not just breathing and reproducing and all that.”

He gave a curt nod to tell her that he was still listening, understanding now that she wanted him to do more than just listen; she was expecting him to participate, to make this more than a one sided conversation. “Alright, so continue elaborating. My interest is soundly peaked.”

The woman’s mouth twitched up in a small smile as she shifted to rest her head on her hands, her elbows serving as her support on the edge of the bar. “Well, what does it matter if human perception is skewed? Perception _is_ what makes you alive…everyone has it, even people that lack certain senses. If you can’t connect with the world, with reality, than you cease to exist in it. Existence goes beyond just floating along the current, being exerted upon by all the surrounding forces. Even if you were technically living, I wouldn’t classify that as being alive. Every story has two sides, no two people see the world through the same eyes, everyone has differing opinions and ideas and personalities…we all react differently to things, even if the differences are so minute as to appear indistinguishable. That’s part of the mystery of the world, though, isn’t it? Trying to find those indistinguishable differences…just another piece of the puzzle. Another perception.”

Decim set the glass back in its rack so softly that not even an inkling of a sound was produced as the glass made contact with the metal rack on which he slid it. The woman watched his simple movements, sensing a change in the air between them as she uncrossed her ankles and rested her feet casually on the circular bar suspended from her chair. She became momentarily distracted by a strand of hair that had become displaced unbeknownst to her, though her fleeting moment of distraction was just enough for Decim to make the reply he had been mulling over throughout the length of her explanation. She didn’t even have a chance to react as her space was suddenly pervaded by the presence of another; the strong, silent figure of the man that she had been having a casual conversation with only seconds before.

His torso was suspended over the bar, and his arm stretched out to allow his hand to cradle her head. He swept his thumb across her bangs, following the smooth curve of her face until her cheek rested in the palm of his hand and her misplaced hair was pressed into submissive perfection. She swore she could feel her heart pounding out of her chest, but that was impossible; she didn’t have a heartbeat anymore. She thought she felt the familiar sensation of a blush searing and coloring her eternally pale cheeks, or the ghost of an infinitesimal shiver produced by his touch racing down her vertebrae. What was this? She had never felt like this…about him…before. Or had she?

“Perception, you say? That is what defines the living from the dead, or a simple existence with no purpose?” his voice was cool and swift now, like a gentle stream, a stream that matched the color of his luminous cerulean eyes—inhuman ones. “What do you perceive right now, then? How does it compare to what I perceive? Does the fact that we’re both perceiving something prove that we are alive? If that is your qualifier, my lady, I believe I have found a loophole to thwart your theory.”

The woman went limp, and Decim was swift to catch her with his threads. She had been blacking out more and more often lately…he really shouldn’t have been tampering with her in such a reckless way. He knew that her memories were starting to come back, as broken and hazy as they were. He also knew that it was only a matter of time before…well, he didn’t want to think about it. But his experimenting with her emotions like this…it was sure to only speed up the process. He sighed and carried her back to her room as he always did, like a cherub returning an angel to her resting chambers.

But she was no angel, and he was no cherub…they were both nothing more than adjudicators of the afterlife, and he had to be content with the role he had been chosen to play. He knew these emotions that had been bubbling up inside of him, building ever since he had laid his eyes on her, were unsanctioned and discouraged. Humans and arbiters could not coexist no matter the circumstances. Arbiters passed judgments. Humans were judged. He sighed and considered how much their relationship and his feelings had grown…ever since he had started talking with her, working with her, and trying to make her feel as comfortable as possible with this foreign world that she had been thrust into with no warning or training or anyone to catch her if she fell. It was wrong. He reminded himself of this as he pulled the covers up to tuck her in after he had gotten her settled on the mattress. He promptly forgot as he gave in to desire and pressed a feather light kiss to her forehead.

“I will do my best to guard you, and your memories…even if I am doomed to do so alone in the end.”

He didn’t know who he was speaking to. He didn’t even really know what the words he was saying meant. He only knew that his nonexistent heart had urged him to say them aloud, to validate them for himself…he knew there was no going back. Ever since she had arrived, had changed the way he viewed the world forever, her very presence had made sure of that.


End file.
